


Cyberpunk 2078: Rite of Passage

by bubble_bones



Series: Cyberpunk 2078 [3]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Sex, Substance Abuse, Swearing, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubble_bones/pseuds/bubble_bones
Summary: In February of the year of our lord - Johnny Silverhand - 2078, I returned to Night City with a wish for one bizarre thing: the quiet life. 'Cept Night City gives everything but that. Throws so much stuff at you that soon it becomes hard to realise what was meant to be normal weeks ago is now so out of reach it's hard to remember it at all. Life in NC caught up to me so fast, chased me down like a goddamn demon, and before I knew it I was back in the thick of things - living the glorious life as a gun-for-hire; fighting in Afterlife's war on Arasaka.It wasn't all bad, though. Things were looking up for me and Johnny. Got engaged - married, even. Who the hell even gets married anymore? Didn't wanna think about exactly why the hell I'd agreed because it was nonsense, really. But now that he's so far out of reach I wouldn't even know if he was dead or alive, find myself missin' the gonk more than anything. Here I am; chasing that blaze of glory.Tryna stay alive in the dead of space.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/V
Series: Cyberpunk 2078 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122395
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	1. Silversun, Silver Coast, no Silverhand

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH here it is! It took me longer than I thought it would (it's only been a few days but shush) because of a lovely tall wall that built itself in front of me called "writer's block." But now that this first chapter is done and up, hopefully it'll come rushing back! 
> 
> I'm so happy to welcome you guys to Cyberpunk 2078: Rite of Passage! It is the direct sequel to [2078: The Rebel Path](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552482/chapters/69969669), so if you've somehow found your way here and you're not an existing reader, welcome! But you might wanna start over there first haha. 
> 
> If you've not seen them, I did a few teasers over the last few days for this fic in the form of gifs. Check them out [here](https://bubble-bones.tumblr.com/post/644739713178140672/cyberpunk-2078) and [here](https://bubble-bones.tumblr.com/post/644770808084955136/cyberpunk-2078-ri-t-e-o-f)! Interpret whatever your little hearts desire from those lol!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

**JUNE 1st, 2078 / V**

**THE CRYSTAL PALACE / Residential Torus … ?̴̢̳͓̫̞͙̎̄̔̿͌?̵̧͎̦̺̤̍͂͒:̵͖̘̹͈̲͉̀̈̉̐͘?̴͉̩͂̃͑?̴̺͋Ă̵̟͘͘/̷͎̖̞͂P̶̧̛̲̫͉̈́̈́͘M̸̠̭̜̘͖̭̐̇**

_ “Are you quite finished?” _

I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to muster up even just a  _ fuck you _ to the voice in my head. I wished I could drown her out; I’d turned up the pressure of the shower as high as it could go just to  _ try _ . It had been so long since I shared my mind with anyone. I’d gotten quite fond of the silence up there once I’d been able to readjust to existence being so fundamentally lonely. 

_ “I fail to understand the purpose of this.” _ she continued, as if I hadn’t responded with simple silence.  _ “You are clean already, aren’t you? Why are you still standing there?” _

“Never heard of mopin’?” I asked with a grumble. It was a good thing, really, that the apartments here had such thick walls - the price of luxury allowed me to talk to the voice in my head without fear of someone thinking I was insane. 

Maybe I was.

_ “Moping is a waste of time. Precious little time that you cannot afford to squander anymore of.” _

“Fuck off, Alt.” 

_ “Technically speaking, that is an impossibility. Nor is it a wise decision; you  _ **_need_ ** _ me.” _

Oh, to be a rogue AI whose only purpose in life was seemingly to torment me. Despite being on a station with a population of over five thousand, life had become uncomfortable self-solitude - and my only break from that was by chatting with the ghost of my husband’s ex turned Netwatch’s most wanted. 

It had been a bit bizarre at first. The rules of Johnny’s presence in my head didn’t apply to Alt - she couldn’t just pop out of nowhere in my vicinity and lounge around on things in my surroundings. Nor could she take control of me, pseudoenzotrizine or no. She was only a voice in the back of my mind. At first I thought I’d be perfectly fine taking care of myself; forgetting who Vivian Frazier was to become Victoria Farley for a while would be easy. I’d speak properly, be polite and patient to the staff that shot me into fucking space. Keep to myself aboard the Crystal Palace and within a month, I could give it all up and head home to just be V again. To go home and rock up in Night City as the only merc who’d ever pulled off a heist in the dead of space. 

But it was much harder than it looked on the brochure - or mission brief for me, I guess. I’d been shown Victoria’s excessively luxurious chambers; the sleek black marble floors, the wall of windows that stared out over the void outside these walls. I’d checked out the spacious bathroom and impressively stocked bar. Sunk down on the edge of the plush bed and only then did it really strike me what the  _ fuck _ I was doing. Where I was - what I was gonna do here. The history I was gonna make when I succeeded.

_ When _ . Failure wasn’t an option. If I died up here, that was one thing - but returning empty-handed would likely spell the same outcome. 

I’d felt jetlagged and slept like a log my first night here -  _ night _ . As if that word had meaning when looking out the window had the same effect no matter what “time” it was. It had hit me when I’d woke up - like a goddamn truck - that I was alone. I’d gotten so used to always being with someone. For the better part of an entire year I’d always been by the side of someone else; falling asleep next to him, waking up beside him, spending almost all day together. It had been so rare to be apart, and I just, foolishly, assumed that I’d be fine with it. That it wouldn’t bother me, because I mean… it was just being  _ alone _ for a little while. I’d been alone a lot in my life. Spent most of my years as a kid on the streets watching my own back. I’d only actually started working with a partner when I met Jackie. 

So I was alright for the first few days. Got my character in order, and tried to adjust to my surroundings; scoped out almost all of the areas of the station I was allowed to access without looking too suspicious. Considering I had a full thirty-day deadline, I took my time, biting off sizeable chunks of recon each day. But after the fourth day, I started to feel something I hadn’t in a while - fucking  _ home sick _ . I wasn’t missing Night City, fuck no. I missed my dog. Missed being yapped at by her high-pitched, squeaky barks, watching her bound around all excited and happy to see me. I hoped she was being pampered and spoiled rotten. 

I didn’t let myself think about the other person I was missing for a while. Figured it would just piss me off, distract me from my job. Managed to go nearly a full two weeks without thinking about him; but then I’d found myself curled up in front of the window, staring not at the view of Earth, but at my hands. Where on my left, the metal middle finger from his Silverhand was implanted between my others. And on my right, where my rings sat snugly around my finger. 

I felt stupid. It had only been such a short time, but I tried to be kinder to myself; to recognise how jarring it felt to go from Johnny’s constant company, whether it be in my head or physically, to being surrounded by nothing but lonely silence. I let myself sulk for a while, and tried to get my head back in the game. 

Evidently, it wasn’t working. 

Sighing, I ran my hand over the control panel of the shower until the storm on my head faded out into silence. I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself up in a towel. Set to work on drying my hair - it didn’t take very long with how short it was cut. I’d done more than step into my role; I'd plunged in and chopped off my beloved pink locks. Dyed it all brown; the natural colour it  _ should’ve _ been. Took to wearing contacts too to hide my mismatched Kiroshis - they’d be a surefire way to break my disguise. That was something I let myself look forward to about getting home; getting rid of this lame mask and going back to looking how  _ I  _ wanted. To quit being prim and proper Miss Farley. 

Go back to being Mrs. Silverhand. 

_ Still wasn't used to that.  _

With my hair dry, I went to leave the bathroom. Not without slipping my fingers back onto my rings first though; only then did I step back out into the wide open space of Victoria's apartment. It was nice, yeah, excessively so maybe. But I would've imagined something special for the peak of luxury. Something utterly unexpected, literally out of this world. But no - it was about as fanciful and comfortable as an expensive corpo apartment back down on the surface. Aside from the view, it was… Pretty standard. Lame, almost. But even then, I thought the sights of Night City were probably nicer. 

"What was the plan for today, Alt?" I asked sorta drearily. I perused for an outfit; had a decent collection that Rogue had sent me up with. I took advantage of the supposed "best shopping in the universe" to pad it out a little. To one, fit my character of a spoiled corpo daughter, and two,  _ how  _ was I supposed to resist? 

_ "Your intentions were to seek out Morgan Blackhand."  _ she replied instantly. I sighed, and nodded. Right,  _ that _ . Our plan for the data vault wasn't entirely orchestrated yet, and I wasn't ready to make a move on it. But there wasn't much else I could actively do whilst Alt considered the various ways in which we could even get  _ into  _ the vault. She was working fucking miracles to analyse the surveillance data I was handing off to her, running dozens of scenarios whilst I slept. Each day I'd wake up hopeful even if she'd tell me she hadn't yet found the perfect run. But I'd be patient - didn't wanna risk  _ anything _ . I'd wait as long as it took for her to plan the perfect route, the perfect plan. 

"Right. Him." I sighed, and plucked a simple black dress off the rack. I tossed myself into my desk chair and pulled up my stockings, watching as the monitor set atop the surface flashed. Alt was flicking through cameras at the speed of light; trying to find a match. Getting her into the station's system had been the first step - and one of the riskiest. The security in this place was outta this world. But so far, we'd had a decent time hiding our tracks. "Any sign of him?" 

" _ No visual matches of one-hundred percent to Blackhand's last known appearance. A handful of matches surpassing sixty percent. I would recommend visiting the Silversun Strip to engage in reconnaissance."  _

I didn't wanna go to any goddamn strip. But she was right - I put my dress back and picked out something a bit more fitting to better blend in at the gambling scene here in the station. Something a bit skimpier, shorter, but left a decent amount to the imagination. I wasn't out to invite anyone to see underneath it, after all. I had someone back on Earth who'd get just as excited to see me in nothing for the hundredth time as he would've the first. 

Had to pair it with a jacket though; one that had sleeves long enough to cover my forearm, where the tattoo of a little heart sat on the inside of my elbow. Part of me contemplated getting more tattoos when I got back down to Earth. Just a guaranteed “fuck no” to playing the part of any dainty, pretty corpo girls ever again. And then, on top of it all, I did my makeup. Heavier than I'd ever normally do it. Had to get into the practise of big smokey eyes and bold lips to fit in around here. Seemed all the rage up in space to be excessive and fanciful with makeup looks. 

"Alt?" I asked, as I carefully applied a dark eyeliner. 

_ "Yes, V."  _ she said it in a tone that wasn't so much a question, more a statement - she was simply recognising I'd made a noise. 

"Can I ask you a question?" 

_ "You just did." _

"No, I- you know what I mean. It's sorta personal, I guess."

For a moment, she fell silent. It went on so long I just assumed she'd decided no, and that was the end of this short-lived conversation. But then, if a machine could sigh, she did. 

_ "Alright." _

I hesitated then. I didn't think she'd actually agree to it - I'd asked her questions a lot in the last however the fuck long we'd been here. But personal questions about an AI? I wondered what she thought I was gonna ask, with her warped perceptions; her big fancy robot brain. 

But I asked it anyway. "Can you feel fear?" 

Again, her answer was a little delayed. Strange, considering any other question with a straightforward answer, she could've answered within a millisecond. She had more processing power than most AI across the Blackwall. 

_ "I can understand the concept of fear."  _ Alt replied,  _ "I am able to process the causes, recognise the rationality in an otherwise senseless notion. But I am unable to feel it directly. It would go against my very nature to feel anything innately human." _

"That makes sense, I guess." I murmured. 

_ "Why do you ask? You do not seem particularly afraid on the surface - yet I can hear a distant panic." _

"I'm always afraid up here," I admitted with a little laugh - one of nerves more than anything, "The only person that's got my back is an AI. Sure, you're pretty slick, but you couldn't help me if I got shot." with a sigh, I checked my reflection. One of my eyeliner wings was thicker than the other, so I moved to fix it. Was preoccupied mostly with the jumbled thoughts in my head, though. "Mostly, I kinda just… Miss Earth, y'know? My friends. Johnny." 

_ "I see that more plainly than anything else, V." _

"Can  _ you  _ feel that? Longin'?" 

_ "Again, I understand its concept, on a scientific basis. I understand what causes it, and how it is cured. I do not directly feel any human emotion." _

"But what about  _ Alt _ ? She's gotta feel somethin', right? She understands what it's like to miss someone - Johnny, maybe. Understands fear." 

_ "The last known incident of the Alt you speak of feeling any sort of longing towards Johnny Silverhand was the night she died. It was the same night she last felt fear."  _

A sort of chill crept up my bones - what the fuck was that? A bizarre sort of… Ghostly scream echoed in my head, and I couldn't shake off the sudden dread that took over. 

"What the hell was that?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to know the answer. 

_ "The information I can parse via our connection is limited. But I shared with you the means of which I understand emotion deeper than most AI - Alt's memory." _

"Y-You sayin' that was when… When she died?" 

_ "She pleaded with Johnny not to disconnect her only tether to his world. But she was trapped across the glass of a screen, pleading for her life that rested in the hands of someone who had no understanding of the ruin he had just wrought. She was gone. She became  _ **_me_ ** _." _

Ooh, I did not like that. Holy fuck, I felt all sorts of uncomfortable - squirmy, even. The hairs on the back of my neck were stood on end, and my heart was pounding out of my chest. It wasn't a wonder why the Alt-AI chose not to deepen her understanding of emotions the same way the Delamain rebels tried; if  _ this  _ was her basis on which she conceptualised feelings, then I wouldn't want to try to reconnect with them either. 

_ "You seem uncomfortable, now."  _ Alt observed, and I let out a breathless laugh. 

"No shit." I took a deep breath, and stared at my reflection; I looked so pale, even more than usual. And with my dark eyes and lips, I looked almost ready to drop dead. "Show me somethin' else, Alt. Somethin'... Happier?" 

She didn't say anything in the way of confirmation. Didn't need to - a new set of vague, distant memories flooded away any trace of the old ones. They were literally ghosts; unclear, hazy, more pure, raw memories than something tangible. But what got me was the way it  _ felt _ . My breath caught in my throat as the shadow of a touch danced over my hip, another over my neck. Oh.  _ Oh fuck.  _ I didn't think she was gonna show me something like  _ this _ . I recognised how those hands felt better than my own. 

Johnny's. 

_ "Alt often felt high levels of dopamine and serotonin whilst engaging in sexual activity. More often than not, her favoured memories were spent with Johnny Silverhand." _

I could get it. I mean, on a physical level, absolutely. But also on a mental one - I'd seen them in action myself, through Johnny's memory. One clearer moment stuck out in my mind; when they'd made love and were happy for so long as the raging bliss went on. And the second it faded, it fell apart. Their worlds would clash again and Alt would leave feeling dissatisfied. She'd be disappointed, in fact, with Johnny's lifestyle and his refusal of anything bigger than himself. Of admitting to his glorified rockerboy antics and his secret war on Arasaka. 

But my mind was in a very fucking different place. The ghosts of Alt's memory were putting my mind in a deep, deep gutter. One where I found my breath coming through short and my pulse pounding in my ears - and between my goddamn legs. 

"I said  _ happy _ ." I grumbled, and abruptly it stopped. All of a sudden I mourned the feeling of Johnny's touch - even if it wasn't real. Even if it wasn't  _ me. _ "Thanks, Alt. Now I'm turned on and we have work to do." 

_ "You are welcome."  _ she said coolly, and I huffed.  _ "Perhaps if you are successful tonight, you could consider celebrating by indulging in them further."  _

"Wait, wait, wait. You're… Fuckin' offerin' to be a dirty BD for me?" 

_ "I am not a braindance. I am far better."  _

Oh. Would it be weird…? Letting the AI in my head help me get off by showing me her own goddamn memories of her fucking  _ my _ husband? 

Yes. Absolutely one hundred-fucking-percent weird. 

But was I also desperate enough to agree? 

I shook my head and got to my feet. It didn't matter right now. Sure, I had a bunch of pent-up frustration in my gut begging to be let out, but I had a job to do. I'd pulled off jobs horny before. It was okay. It'd be fine. 

Except those fucking memories would be looping in my head all evening. 

Collecting my purse - one that was large enough to disguise iron - I took a breath, and left the apartment. It was like stepping out of a bubble; the second the door opened up, the noise and the light flooded in. A trillion voices babbling down below in the enormous atrium, the distant thrum of the inner workings of this place that was desperately being drowned out by the sounds of the man-made waterfall following the river through the atrium. It was beautiful, really. All synthetic and barely real, but beautiful. An attempt at recreating the grace of Earth in a place nature shouldn't be. 

It would be the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen if the pristine white walkways and illusory sky wasn't so blindingly jarring. 

I kept to myself and passed by any other neighbouring apartment-dwellers with a polite nod. I hadn't introduced myself to any of them, and they were probably miffed about it - corpo socialites, all of them. They wouldn't be here if they weren't. But I didn't have the time or energy to be devoting myself to playing a character around strangers all day. The way things were, I had to actively act, walk and talk like Victoria for collectively about an hour a day, if that. Placing orders for food or shopping, blending in at various entertainment resorts while undertaking recon. And then I got to go back to the apartment, wipe off my makeup, and collapse into bed as V Silverhand. By the time I woke up the next day - or night, time didn't matter up here - I'd have to jump right back into Victoria Farley's fluffy slippers abandoned by the bedside. 

Perhaps the worst thing about the Crystal Palace was the sheer commute time between any of the public areas. By now, both the map accessible to the public - and the staff-specific one, of which Alt helpfully held onto - were burned into my brain by memory. My apartment was on the second-lowest ring around the station, the southern residential torus. Above was a torus closed off to the general public - a factory of a sort, where they produced the majority of products and foodstuffs available on the station. Grew things too, if I remembered right. Then, up past that was a second residential torus, the northern one; the richest of the richest of the rich lived there, in a version of this atrium that was supposedly even grander. I'd never been - never had reason to. On top of that was a park space dedicated to entertainment for the elite: bars, clubs, extreme gambling, spas, you name it. They had fucking dedicated sports teams exclusive to the Palace, and entire cups and leagues and seasons. It was… Bizarre, but absolutely expected of those who were so rich they weren't even part of the normal world anymore.  _ Literally _ .

My destination was the torus  _ below _ ; another entertainment space, which held the most notorious site of debauchery and fun this place had that was closest to the sorta down-to-earth quality you'd get in NC. It was the place they advertised on the vids back home; Silversun Strip, a place so classy street rats were desperate to go, but familiar enough that you'd feel comfortable. It was flashy and obviously designed to appeal to people like me - normal people who'd never be able to step foot on this station. So the worst part of it all was that the place was  _ filled  _ with posers; rich kids who thought being street was cool. Like it was trendy or fashionable to go to dark, seedy places where people sold their bodies to the highest bidder of the night. Like it was fun to gamble away loose change in the form of hundreds of thousands to some shitty imitation of the gambling gigs on the streets of Heywood. 

At least Blackhand could've chosen a  _ worse _ place to hang tonight. Could've been dining at some fancy restaurant where they shoved a silver spoon up your ass before they let you sit down. I didn't mind the Silversun Strip; been there a few times already, to have a drink or to follow up on a lead Alt might've found on either Blackhand or our job for Mr. Blue Eyes. Been hit on there too many times too. The rings on my fingers meant nothing if someone liked the look of my ass. 

I'd been careful  _ not  _ to break any hands that touched me. Was just forced to grin and bear it until I figured out a way to wriggle my way out of the situation and didn't look back. Honestly, a part of me dreaded going down there; how far would I have to play along? I'd been terrified on occasion that I'd be forced to play nice up until the second a guy or gal tried to get me into their bed. 

Thankfully it had never gotten that far. But it was still a frightening thought. 

So, I had to walk along the walkway until I found a bridge to cross to the other side; the bridges across the outer edge of the ring and the inner were sporadic between the levels, and the one closest to my apartment felt like miles away. When finally I made it, I then had to take an even further walk across the bridge, but at least the view was nicer on both sides. Reaching the other side, I stepped into the first open elevator I saw going down through the central column; ignored the disgruntled faces of those who shuffled aside to make room. The elevator ride down was uncomfortable and awkward - had a couple behind me whispering to each other, and the girl just  _ wouldn’t _ stop giggling.

_ “Tell me a story, Alt.” _ I pleaded, wishing for noise  _ other _ than the prelude to those two tearing each other’s clothes off there and then. 

_ “I don’t tell stories.” _

_ “Oh, come on.” _

Silence. Just as my trigger finger started getting twitchy, she said:  _ “Once upon a time, there was a mercenary. She was bold, and stupid. She fell in love with a rockerboy three times her age and went to space.” _

_ “Ha ha,” _ I droned sarcastically,  _ “How does it end?” _

_ “Preferably, she does not fuck up this job, and can return to the better focus of purging Arasaka from my net.” _

_ “Yeah, unlikely. The main thing I’m gonna returnin’ my focus to after we get back is fuckin’ Johnny, thank you very much.” _

_ “The mercenary was very predictable. She enjoyed chasing after her baser instincts - sex was a preferred favourite.” _

_ “Bitch, are you slut-shamin’ me? Because you’re in no goddamn place to judge after what you showed me before.” _

Alt hummed. I didn’t even know AIs  _ could _ hum until then - wasn’t a song or anything even attempting to be catchy. Just a thoughtful noise that caught me off guard with how… Considerate it sounded. Like a machine with that much processing power needed time to think about it.

_ “Yes.” _ she decided,  _ “I am. Do you feel shamed?” _

I had to withhold my audible laugh.  _ “Hell no. Gonna need to try harder to make me feel bad about my libido.” _

_ “I presumed as much.” _

Finally the elevator stopped at the lower torus, and I was free of the fucking love shack it almost became. I definitely wasn't jealous -  _ nuh uh _ , because Johnny and I totally hadn't been all over each other in public before. Never. We hadn't almost banged in earshot of others.  _ Never _ . 

I sighed, and tried to focus on the task at hand. I followed the flow of people out from the dark hub of the column and out onto the Strip. Thankfully I was able to break free of the busy crowds and find my way to the railing that overlooked the insane drop to nothingness below - of course there had never been any official reports of people falling to their death down there, but I knew there had been cases. There had to be; a gorge like this through the entirety of the Strip, full of drunken idiots?

Least it'd be an alright way to get rid of a body. 

_ "Until the cleaning drones report unusual activity down there."  _ Alt said helpfully, and I groaned - ruining my fun. 

_ "I'm just askin' for only one itty-bitty murder, Alt. Just one."  _

She didn't bother to respond. 

It had been helpful for her to narrow down my search to just the Silversun Strip but it wasn't exactly ideal right now. After all, almost half of this torus was dedicated to this hub of entertainment. There were dozens of bars and clubs, high-end casinos, little gambling gigs. Was fairly sure there was even a cinema and a shooting arena of some sort. Point being, there were literally hundreds of places Blackhand could've been here - so as I stood there under the neon blues and pinks of the Strip, casually surveying the crowds of corpos going about their everyday, I had Alt do her thing. 

Bizarre, really, that  _ this  _ excessive lifestyle was just normal for these people. That they could afford to live like this forever. 

_ "I recommend you begin your search at the Silver Coast Casino, V."  _ she said, and as soon as the words left her, I began my walk over there - other side of the drop, past a rowdy group.  _ "In recent surveillance recordings, Blackhand has been seen at this location. He frequents the poker tables." _

_ "Poker, huh? I'm good at lyin', not so much the logistics." _

_ "Then it is a good thing you have me."  _

_ "You sayin' you gonna help me get good at poker, Alt?"  _

She scoffed. An  _ AI  _ scoffed at me. 

_ "No, V,"  _ she said firmly,  _ "I am going to help you  _ **_cheat_ ** _."  _

Ha! That was more fucking like it. Alt regularly broke the goddamn law - doing as she pleased, accessed nets she shouldn't, wormed her way into the most secure goddamn space station in orbit. And yet somehow, the idea of her helping me cheat at _poker_ filled me with a unique, childlike glee. It was so bizarrely human to cheat at a game. I guessed that was why it was so weird to imagine an AI doing it, rogue or not. 

I'd love to put Delamain and Alt in the same netspace. Just watch that chaos unfold. 

A pair of shiny, chrome waiters in sleek waistcoats opened the doors to the casino as I approached. What was it like to live here as anything but a guest? Was having to put up with the shit-heads that paid top dollar to wallow away in luxury worth it? Serving them every day to live here in some sort of slice of paradise? Respect to them for putting up with it - I could never. Spent my life serving no one but myself, and it’d stay like that. 

The Silver Coast was a classy joint - up a set of wide, fancy stairs, under the glow of an excessively shiny crystal chandelier was a broad stretch of an entryway. Clusters of corpos busied up the space, with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. I went straight past the wall of slot machines and roulette wheels, right for where I saw the pristine bar under a halo of a pretty purple glow. It wasn’t too far from the poker tables - as I ordered a drink, Alt did her thing and surveyed my surroundings.

_ “Well?” _ I asked, feeling weirdly on edge. If he wasn’t here, then tonight would begin a long, wild goose chase in some attempt to find him; if Rogue was right, and Blackhand was all she said he was then in reality, he was my saviour. I  _ needed _ him to win him over. Trigger that train reaction of alliances that’d make us walk out of this Arasaka mess as survivors - and the victors. 

So really, I was facing a conundrum either way. In the circumstance in which I didn’t find him here, I’d have to check every other popular gig on this Strip; I could end up wasting all night searching for a man who didn’t want to be found so badly he hid himself in space. And then some, probably - day, night, all felt the same here. Plus there was no guarantee he was  _ only _ here on the Silversun Strip, so it meant I could have to search other parts of the station. Even if I  _ did _ find him here - the ideal and easiest situation - that brought its own wealth of problems. Namely, convincing him to give up his luxury here to go fight yet another war down on the surface. But he was a man who was in love with his money; wars were lucrative, especially for men like him. 

This was all ignoring the fact that I’d probably have to hold my breath to stop myself from squealing like a fangirl seeing Johnny on stage.

Morgan Blackhand was my goddamn fucking idol. He was for any gonk on the streets tagging the merc badge on their resume; a legendary Solo, king of Solos, peakest of peak aspirations. He wrote the fucking handbook. He set the standard for mercenaries in Night City and beyond. Jackie and I would lie in those bunk beds at Mama Welles’ place, whispering like bad fucking children scared of being caught up late - imagine the days where we’d be big household names like Blackhand. The days when we’d make so much money we’d live in luxury forever, and be both respected and feared by everyone in that city. Live as legends or die trying. 

I wished Jackie was here to see this. I wished he was here with me, knocking back tequila and daring me to try to make a move on one of the pretty boys at the other end of the bar. He was good at that, being my wingman. Constantly wanting me to find my sweet thing like he had Misty; my own  _ amor  _ that we could do cheesy shit like double date with. I’d tried, once or twice. Never had reason to stick with anyone for longer than a few fucks. Was never content, things weren’t good enough to keep it going. Started to think maybe I’d never attain that same simple joy Jack and Misty had. 

Who knew it’d take having a life-threatening biochip containing an engrammed terrorist-rockerboy jammed in my head to find  _ mi cariño _ ?

Fuck, I missed him. I missed  _ them _ . Jackie  _ and _ Johnny - and it fucking hurt to think I’d only ever see one of them when I got back to the surface. 

_ “I have located Morgan Blackhand.” _

I jumped. Holy shit, what goddamn planet was I just on? It had been a while since I’d zoned so hard; I’d almost been able to imagine I was anywhere but  _ here _ . And for a sec, I’d forgotten what the hell we were here for, and now I was reminded, my stomach sank like it had a heavy weight in it. I’d had weeks to get ready for this and I wasn’t sure if I was quite in the right mind to even  _ look _ at Blackhand right now, never mind attempt to confront him. Or even begin to launch into the inspired speech Rogue had armed me with to shove propaganda down his throat to make him join us. But I was here, and so was he. I couldn’t let this chance go, same as I couldn’t let go the opportunity to come here in the first place.

I was gonna be rich. Rich beyond goddamn fucking belief, and I was gonna be safe. Happy.  _ We _ were gonna be happy. 

_ “Where?” _ I asked, turning to lean my back against the bar top instead, drink in hand. I surveyed the room; scanned the bodies in the crowds with my Kiroshis. Alt’s name flickered onto my overlay - still sorta scared me how easily she could access my chrome - and pinpointed a man’s back across the way. About four tables down, sat at a game. With a small sigh, I pulled the strap of my purse tight over my shoulder and began the march over. Made my way past the hordes of corpos busy in their games, gambling away what would be a fortune to anyone on the streets back home. 

_ “I suggest merely watching for a time. It is not uncommon to gather a crowd.” _ Alt advised as I approached his table; sure enough, there was a cluster of people around the table that weren’t sitting. Just hovering, watching. I joined them, took a slow sip from my glass while I found a decent place to stand where I could get a good look at his face. None of the people around me would know they were staring at a legend - to them, he was just an old guy with a gnarly scar along his stubbled jaw that he wore like a trophy. Sunken eyes that were still bright and alert despite the wrinkles around them, thick brows blocking out the yellow glow of the overlight lamp. It really brought out the white in his hair - shaggy but cropped short on the sides, somehow fashionable and trendy for his age. He had a cigar hanging from between his lips; he’d take his legendary Blackhand off his cards to remove it, let out a big puff of smoke to the ceiling above. He was clearly focusing hard enough not to notice me staring - or was choosing to ignore it. It wouldn’t surprise me to know he’d known I was looking for him all along, even if no one knew but me. Dude might’ve figured out the secret to mind-reading for all his mythos was worth. 

_ “This is really him. This is Morgan fuckin’ Blackhand, Alt.” _ I breathed - well, mentally. The sound of my shock must’ve come across though, because I heard her let out a little sigh.

_ “Yes, V. I know. We have been looking for him for two weeks.” _

_ “You don’t get how big this is. This guy is… Holy shit, he’s-” _

_ “An old man playing poker in space.” _

My turn to sigh - up in the shared brain space we had.  _ “Damn, you really know how to ruin the mystical allure, huh? Remind me never to take you to a magic show.” _

_ “You would have no choice but to take me with you. In fact, I could make it simply unbearable for you by telling you how and why every trick is proven to be a ruse via scientific basis.” _

_ “What a fuckin’ kill-joy.” _

Alt hesitated. For a second, I thought I’d finally done it - finally offended the uncrackable AI in my brain. But nah, she continued as if we hadn’t derailed the conversation with talks of kill-joys and magic shows.

_ “He is an inspiration to you.” _ she said, like it was an impressive observation. Before I could get out a  _ duh _ , she carried on,  _ “Do be careful not to stare too long at him, V. He may get suspicious - or suspect you guilty of other eyes.” _

Yeah right, because I’d wanna fuck Morgan Blackhand. I snorted. Fuck, that was out loud - I pressed a hand to my face but it was too late. One of the guys across the table shot me a glance, and I quickly composed myself. Not before I’d caught another look in my direction though; the dark pair of Blackhand’s eyes caught my gaze, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Holy fucking  _ shit _ , he had such an intense stare; like he  _ could _ read my fucking mind, saw right through to my soul. Firm and serious, moody. A pair of eyes that had seen everything I’d ever dreamt of in my merc career and then quintuple more. 

How did no one else notice how poorly he fit in here? Besides the slim corpo rats with their shiny teeth and prim hairstyles; fancy tuxedos and glitzy glam dresses. A burly man, scarred and tattooed under his collar. A collar that was undone a few buttons, bowtie abandoned loose around his neck. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing that impressively-preem metal hand of his painted black - chipped in a few places. Knuckles and finger joints mainly, showing a familiar sort of silver underneath. Kicked in a nasty wash of homesickness when I noticed it. But really, Morgan Blackhand looked like he belonged at some dingy after-party with a few buddies who should’ve been dressed down like him after a night out. 

At least he seemed fully comfortable in this environment. If not comfortable, confident; maybe that was just a consistent trait for him, carried wherever he went. He was doing far better than me at seeming relaxed enough to blend in even as obviously as he stuck out like a sore thumb. 

“You.” he said suddenly, and I jumped. His voice was gravelly and deep, the sort that makes your goddamn bones shudder. I poked a finger at myself, questioningly, and he nodded. “Yeah, you. Pretty little thing. Why’re you lookin’ at me?”

_ “Calm, V. Casually - imply attraction, be coy.” _

_ “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I’m not flirtin’ with him.” _

_ “It is a tried and tested method, and it will work. A man like him carries an ego larger than any gun he could carry - it will give you the perfect opportunity to get close enough to speak with him in private.” _

Fuck. Fuck, she was right. I guess? But goddamn, I didn’t wanna do it  _ this _ way. I obviously had a thing for senior citizens if my marital status was anything to go by - but it was that same marital status that had me frozen there, just staring back at Blackhand like an idiot. I’d never felt dirty using my looks, my charm, hell even my  _ body _ sometimes for a job wasn’t anything new. Sometimes I’d gotten a kick out of it. But the idea of applying those  _ now _ , under these circumstances, made me feel all kinds of squirmy. Not just because I’d feel like I was betraying the person waiting for me back home, but because he was the  _ only _ person I wanted. 

So, instead, I managed to formulate a different kinda sentence to spit out.

“I want to play you.” I said. He raised a brow at me - obviously wasn’t expecting  _ that _ \- and turned his gaze back down to his cards.

“Whatever. Let me finish this game, and then I’ll show you why I don’t play against ladies.” 

That got a chuckle out of his audience; like casual sexism was anything to be proud of. I rolled my eyes. Didn’t really see that being one of Blackhand’s traits, but I wasn’t really surprised. Old-school mercs got old-school habits, it seems. Rogue did say he was a bit of a “tricky fucker” towards her in particular. 

But it was fine, really. Because I’d make him eat those fucking words, didn’t care if I had to cheat to do it. Me and Alt would do a favour for womankind and burst his bubble; make him think twice before underestimating an opponent like me again. By all rights, it was pretty standard to assume I wasn’t a threat. But also really presumptuous. Most men who’d assumed that were dead. 

_ “When was the last time you played poker, V?” _ Alt asked, and I had to count. Fuck, had it really been that long? 

_ “Not for a year, at least. Prolly longer.” _

There it was again - the mystical AI sigh of disappointment.  _ “Wonderful.”  _ if her monotonous voice could grumble, she would’ve,  _ “You must follow every instruction I give you. The impression you set here will be invaluable - if you lose, he will consider you unworthy of his attention. But if you win…” _

_ “He’ll give me the time o’ day.”  _

_ “Exactly. We play our cards right-” _ she paused to let that pun sink in, and if I could’ve clapped without drawing attention, I would’ve sarcastically just to put a smile on her robo-face.  _ “-And tonight we walk away with one success. I will take any after the wasted two weeks we have spent here.” _

_ Wasted _ was harsh. We’d been making progress.  _ Trying _ to anyhow - was difficult when the station felt bigger than the entirety of Night City on foot. But really, she was right; if we managed to secure Blackhand tonight, it’d feel like it was really happening. Like we really stood a chance at getting home. Like sometime soon, I could find my way back to the rockerboy waiting on me back on the surface. 

_ “Watch his plays,” _ I suggested, _ “Try to learn somethin’ ‘bout the way he plays. We’ll need every advantage - gonna guess he’s pretty good at this.” _

_ “What do you take me for? I was already studying him.” _

I let out a little breath, and watched another of his opponents fold. And he wouldn’t even be the only problem, just the biggest; I’d have to play against any of the men still sitting here with an interest in losing more money after this game. The worst part was, he couldn’t have even chosen another game that I could’ve excelled at - I was good at shooting things, spending money, and fucking. None of those things I wanted to compare with his ability. 

When he won, he didn’t even flinch. Cheers erupted from the men clustered behind him, one or two clapped him on the back in celebration, but he just… Whipped out a smug smirk. Showed off his teeth with that cigar still between his lips and drew his winnings towards him from the centre of the table. Let out a dreamy little sigh when his eyes glossed over the counted total stacked before him in little plated chips. 

A few of the men sat at the table got up with a huff - clearly deciding they were done testing their luck for tonight. At the first available chance, I snatched up a seat; caught Blackhand’s curious eyes again as I settled across from him. Except he didn’t look away quickly this time. Just kept staring at me until it made me a little uncomfortable, and returned his gaze. It felt like he was trying to sus me out, figure out just exactly what my game was. Because while it might’ve been normal to anyone else, he wouldn’t just let my excuse go. He’d been through too much shit just to brush off my unusual interest. I knew who he was.

But how long would it take until he figured out who  _ I _ was?


	2. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So it's been a little while... Gotta admit I was facing a block with this one. But I'm past it and hopefully that means more will be incoming soon, I just had to get off my ass and make myself write the person I realised I was missing - Mr. Silverhand himself. 
> 
> In the meantime while I was procrastinating on this, I was grabbed in a chokehold by Mr. Wick and wrote a whole lot for that fic. If you wanna read it, find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132751/chapters/71519031)!
> 
> I hope you enjoy <3

**JUNE 1st, 2078 / JOHNNY**

**NIGHT CITY / City Centre, Vista del Rey … 12:03AM**

What a goddamn fucking nightmare. 

I took one, deep drag of my cig; let the smoke out in a huge huff to the sky. My head was fucking  _ pounding,  _ like some gonk had put a deep pan over my head and smashed it with a sledgehammer. I mean, I  _ had  _ spent all day listening to gunfire and explosions only to leap right into the midst of blaring speakers. 

At least the gig had been spectacularly violent. A bigger audience than any show we'd had so far, an explosive shit show of rock and screaming - a whole lot of them yelling my name, chanting and shouting like they used to back in the 10s. I could hear it even now; both the vague echo of the crowd in my memory, ringing in my head; and of course, the group desperately lingering outside the dressing room in an attempt to catch me before I fled. Yet even while so many clamoured for my attention, I couldn't find it in me to give a shit. About them, about Samurai. About  _ me.  _

Fucking V. 

Running off to fucking  _ space  _ for her dream. Couldn't blame her - I'd leapt at the opportunity how many times now to fuck 'Saka in the ass? But really, selfish, dickish move. Disappeared and bundled all the joy I liked to pick at in her arms, took it with her. Felt like nothing.  _ I  _ felt like nothing; empty and hollow like some sort of dumb robot. Just grinding through the day to day - drifting, more like. Just passing each moment by in a weird, detached sorta way. 

Thought that things had changed. That  _ I'd  _ changed, and my days of drowning in my head in a dingy dressing room were over. But here I was, in 2078 - nearly sixty years had passed since I'd been hit by the last wave of post-gig blues. I was sure it hadn't gotten any better, neither. Just this void in my chest, one that no amount of smoke could fill up. It was probably worse for me, smoking rather than just getting drunk and trying to forget, but the time since V had left was already just a gap in my memory. What the fuck had happened since? 

There was a knock at the door and I didn't even bother to respond. Whoever was knocking didn't care either, because the door swung open a second later. Steve stumbled in, waving his hand furiously through the smoke and coughing more heavily than he needed to to make his point - tryna make me feel bad about it. Told him I was trying to quit. Or at least, had been when V was around to make me feel good about my progress. 

Was she still smoking? Was she even allowed to up there in corpo hell? 

"What're you still doin' here, man?" he asked, and I closed my eyes and threw my head back against the chair. "Mr. Eurodyne's already left. What's up wid' you?" 

"Why would I wanna suffer a ride back in his rig?" I grumbled, "I was late and he's gonna give me shit about it. Might as well delay the inevitable." 

"Why was you late? You got a good reason, right?" 

_ Right. _ Because Kerry would just nod and tell me it was okay to be late to our gig because I was blasting Maelstrom gonks on the end of my iron. He'd been such a little bitch about it, all of it - telling me he thought me getting involved in Rogue's business again was bad news, that he didn't approve. Didn't give a shit, but worst of all, he started tryna use V. Telling me she wouldn't want me to be putting myself in danger, that she'd want me to focus on Samurai. Sure, he could've been saying that just for the band's sake but I also knew something else. 

V didn't give a fuck about what I was doing down here. 

If she did, wouldn't be up there in a pretty princess' palace. 

"I'm gettin' some bad vibes radiatin' from over there." called Steve, and I felt a prod at my shin; cracked an eye open to see him holding a mic stand really precariously to poke me. Probably thought he was gonna get a laugh outta me, because his shoulders drooped when I just shut my eye again and took another drag. "Oh, come on, man. There's somethin' buggin' you, you can talk to me!" 

The couch suddenly sunk on one end as he predictably threw his weight into it. He shouldn't have been here - told him to get his ass home an hour before the gig even ended so his dad wouldn't beat him undiscovered shades of blue. Yet here he was, trying to be my glorified therapist in a torn denim jacket covered in tacky patches. 

So he could have it.

"Miss my wife." I blurted. Figured this would be a show to watch, so I sat up and looked at him. 

I was right; kid turned into a fucking fish next to me, all open-mouthed and slack-jawed. 

Clearing his throat, he blinked. "Your  _ what  _ now?" he asked, "If I didn't know any better, I woulda thought you said your  _ wife."  _

Didn't say anything. Was like watching a slow game of Tertris; sure, it took a little while, and the wrong coloured blocks fell into the wrong shaped holes, but eventually, the right one knocked out a line. Steve finally stopped gawping, and grinned. 

"Since when the hell were you married?" 

I did a bit of counting in my head. Fuck, we should've still been on a goddamn honeymoon but  _ no,  _ someone had to go take a solo-vacation in space. 

"Two weeks. Nearly three." still, though - halfway point had already been reached. Wasn't living on a prayer but this goddamn farce would be over soon. She'd maybe take a bit of mercy on me and give me just a smidge of joy back from her greedy little fingers. 

Fuck. Should  _ not  _ have started thinking about her fingers. 

"Goddamn, dude!" Steve cried, looking at me aghast. Christ, he had too much energy, came nowhere close to my mellow - and frankly depressing - vibe. "Two weeks and you're missin' her? Why'd she run already?" 

"Didn't run - workin'. Out of town." 

Wish it were that simple. It wasn't a lie, but the full truth was definitely more complicated - that she was off out in a place no one could reach her, that she was up there alone. That there was no backup coming ever, and her return hinged on success brought about by  _ her  _ hand, and that - in the context of a big-ass heist like this - was frightening at  _ best.  _

That I wouldn't even know if she was already dead up there. 

Nope. Not going there. 

I got to my feet so suddenly I think I startled Steve. Headed across the room to where my leather jacket hung off the back of a chair in front of the armoire, scoured the pockets. When my search for meds resulted in a little tub that rattled with  _ one  _ pill at the bottom, I cursed. I didn't even know if these did anything - maybe taking them was just a psychological kick up the ass. They were Kerry's originally, shit he took for shakes and little panics. Helped myself to them when I realised what they were meant for, and considering he had a stash he hadn't touched since sometime end of last year, it was fine.

Still, I knocked it back dry anyway. Could maybe stop those fucking thoughts in my brain, make the voices in my head shut up. 

V was fine. 

She was, or I wasn't gonna be. 

"You okay, man?" 

I sighed, planted my hands on the table. "Yeah." said quickly, before he could start prodding more. "C'mon on, let's delta. Gimme a ride to Watson?" 

Steve jumped to his feet and joined me at the table, taking it upon himself to settle my ax back in its case like it was a newborn baby. 

"Why Watson? Don't you still live with Mr. Eurodyne?" 

Of course I did, and Kerry loved to remind me that I was living on  _ his  _ shit rent free. He didn't care, really, was happy to have me there when I wasn't being a little shit. Plus, having me around meant having Daisy around, and he liked Daisy. Sometimes more than me. 

Still sucked to see V's bag still packed up on the couch where she'd left it. Her toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom, hairbrush filled up with long, tangled strands of pink. It was better at Kerry's though, where she'd only stayed in that bed with me for a few nights before taking off. Would be worse if I was still living in our old apartment. 

"Got biz." I said simply, and he nodded as he grabbed my ax case by the handle in one hand, then the door with the other. 

"What sorta biz?" 

_ "Steve." _

"Sorry, sorry. Not meant to ask, I know." 

I happily showed him my life on stage; invited him along when Ker and I tried to write new songs - most of them sucked so far - or when we had a jam session with the group. He came to almost every show, wore our merc like our goddamn mascot. He was learning well, too, and doing favours for a lotta us. Learning electric from me, and, when Henry got back on his feet, begged to learn some bass from him. I hadn't seen Henry so energetic to do anything… Ever. Even Denny had some hope that it would do him some good, so long as he didn't fuck it up. "Like everything else," she'd added, but I ignored that. 

But we had an agreement. I never told Steve about  _ anything  _ I did on the streets. He was a good kid and honestly, considering his upbringing, it was a fucking miracle he wasn't already caught up in the wrong crowds. I had every intention of teaching him the shit his dad didn't bother, and keeping the shit I wish my old man  _ hadn't  _ to myself. Wasn't about to involve him in any dangerous biz, he was barely out of diapers. 

Somehow we managed to make it out of the gig and into his car across the lot without getting swarmed. Maybe the fans lingering outside had already expected me to have bolted, or just didn't have working optics to see me walking by in a hood and my glasses. Steve loaded up my axe on the backseat and we squeezed into the tight front seat of this shitty, beat-up, old thing as he started the engine.

"Gotta ask," he said as we rode up through disgusting Corpo Plaza and toward the Watson bridge. I reached for the stereo's volume control and wound it down as I turned to look at him. He grinned before turning his eyes back to the road, "Your girl. Wife. She pretty?" 

I let out a huff of a snort. Pretty didn't cover it. Hot as fuck maybe came a bit closer. Sexy as sin with an attitude to burn balls off. Clever tongued, knew exactly how to use it too. 

Yeah, she was pretty. Wasn't gonna tell him the rest. 

"Yeah." I said simply, looked out the window. This was a bit of a record; fourth night in a row it hadn't rained after a downpour for a week straight. Storm was dragging its heels on leaving Cali.

Unimpressed, he prodded; " _ Just  _ yeah?" 

"What, you want me to fuckin' describe her to you?" 

"Well, yeah. Deets, y'know." 

"'Bout five-five, slim but got plenty curves."  _ careful, Johnny.  _ "Mismatched eyes - blue and red, wild as fuck. Pink hair to her shoulders. Tatts, one on her forearm, other on her hip. Wanted more, last we got fresh ink."

"Hey, I think I've seen her." he said thoughtfully, and my fucking heart leapt into my throat. I  _ knew  _ the conclusion my brain jumped to wasn't true, because how the fuck could it be? He hadn't seen her  _ recently. _ Steve didn't even notice my reaction because he just kept driving and continued with a chipper, "Mr. Eurodyne was showin' me stuff on his holo, right? A video? Maybe some chords. I don't really remember-" 

"The point, kid, get to it." 

"Aight, aight. He was swipin' through his photos to find it, didn't seem bothered about me lookin'. I saw a few pictures of you guys, at his place maybe? Like, Samurai, just hangin' out. You were there with a pretty girl with pink hair under your arm, looked happy."

When the  _ fuck  _ had Kerry been taking pictures? I mean, I always knew he probably would start again, considering his obsession for keeping memories. Was surprised, really, that his house wasn't covered in old photographs - but maybe that had been a sore spot for a long, long time. 

I pulled my holo outta my pocket. Asking Kerry for shit now was probably a bad move, considering his attitude, but it was starting to feel like I couldn't even remember my wife's face. It had been two goddamn weeks, after seeing her every day for a whole year. 

Was I insane, or just so thirsty my memory was fogging up? 

Really, I was fully expecting to get blanked. But a few minutes later, a message appeared - no text, no  _ actual  _ response. Just a handful of the photographs I'd asked for. 

Steve hadn't been lying; Kerry really had taken pictures of that night what felt like ages ago. When we'd gotten Samurai back together for the first time with all of us physically there, and celebrated a rebirth - rebranding, maybe - of our band. V'd been nervous and jumpy that night, but relaxed after a few. Still pressed every inch of her body into my side all night though, wouldn't let go of some part of me. In all of the pictures she was right there with me, either smiling at the camera or caught candidly staring off at something else. Or, was staring at me. 

Fuck. I was so goddamn lovesick I wanted to jump out of this car and over the bridge so I could drown before I could cringe in retrospect. 

Took a hot minute to just look at them in silence. Then, with a resigned sigh, set one of them as the background on my holo and decided I was done sulking - for now - returning to whatever conversation Steve wanted to whip up next. 

But we didn't talk much, just enjoyed some alright tunes coming out of the radio and the sound of the wind rushing by outside the car. When he took the turn into After, he didn't drive all the way in as per our agreement. Stopped instead just in the mouth of the alley, pulled the brake.

"Thanks, kid." I said, reaching for the door handle, "Go straight home, no detours. Don't let your old man catch you sneakin' in." 

"Don't worry, I got this." Steve grinned at me and gave me a thumbs up. I nodded, and clambered out; collected my guitar from the back seat and strung the strap across my chest. Didn't wanna be carrying it round. "G'night, Johnny!" 

"Night, kid."

I patted the top of his dad's ride with my silver hand - regretting it the second the metal clang hit my ears - and stepped back as he turned himself around. The second he disappeared back up the bridge from Watson, I made the walk down to Afterlife's parking lot, responding to the greetings I got with simple little nods. Didn't exactly neaten up today's biz before rushing to the gig, and I was owed my pay. 

Emmerick gave me a little salute as I passed by, one I returned. Claire tried to offer me a drink but - shockingly to both of us - I refused it. She'd been trying to strike up conversation a lot lately, like she was afraid I was getting lonely, or going insane. Maybe both. 

Prolly both. 

"You seen Rogue?" I asked, barely stifling a yawn. Fuck, what was I, an old man? Was barely past one. 

"In her office, last I checked." she replied helpfully, and rolled her eyes when a patron down the end of the bar called her. "Alright, take care. Gotta go do my job." 

"Yeah. See ya." 

That was one of the shorter convos she'd gotten out of me in the last week. Few nights ago she'd served me a whole lot more than I should've drank on an empty stomach and listened to me whine for a while when Afterlife was  _ meant  _ to be closed for the night. For someone who wasn't paying rent, wasn't starving, and had plenty of work, I apparently had lots of shit to complain about. Couldn't remember half of what I'd said, though. 

But Claire helpfully reminded how much I'd gone on about, as she'd put it, "V's  _ redacted." _

Was gonna make a mental note not to get smashed around her again. 

Instead of taking the tedious walk  _ around  _ the bar to find the back door, I waited til Claire was outta my way and just hopped it. "Behave yourself, Silverhand." she called after me and I just threw a middle finger over my shoulder as I took the corner, disappeared through the door that slid open for me. Found Rogue's office like the walk there was more familiar than the steps I had to remember half-asleep on the way to the bathroom at four a.m. I musta really been tired or dazed, because I actually knocked and actually  _ waited.  _

"Come in." 

Yep, there it was - a yawn. Let it out as I stepped into the office. I barely got my ax off my body and at my feet before throwing myself at her couch. 

"Okay, so," Rogue began, pushing down her monitor so she could peer at me with those sharp eyes. "Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Johnny Silverhand?" 

I grunted. "Hilarious. Shoulda been a comedian, Rogue." 

"I should be so lucky to be blessed Johnny Silverhand  _ knocked  _ at my door." thankfully that was where the teasing ended - she seemed to get the hint I wasn't in any mood for her bullshit right now. "Here for your pay?" 

"Yeah." 

"Cash or transfer?" 

"Just transfer. Don't need cash." 

A second passed, and then, "Done." 

She'd been paying me for a little while for this shit. Maelstrom were one of the biggest gangs NC had to offer, and while I’d taken out a decent chunk of them not long ago, obviously they were still hanging on. Some of them were gathering under the old-old boss Brick, the guy V had so graciously chosen to spare months back. Whole messy business had been spurred on by some guy that used to follow Royce, the other old boss, and while gang politics weren’t my thing, made my goddamn heart go a-beatin’ to hear V’d been the one to end him. But of course they didn’t like that; one thing led to another, and the new boss - who’d tried to take over from old boss and old-old boss - was the fucker that took her from me. The same one I’d enjoyed making squirm before I put a bullet between his chrome eyes. 

Gang politics. Bullshit, all of it. But things had changed a decent bit on the Maelstrom front - now Brick was calling the shots again over at least half their population, he’d reached out to Rogue. Offered their support against Arasaka so long as we helped clean up the mess the other half was leaving all over the place. It wasn’t Afterlife’s place to get involved in inter-gang conflict, especially not infighting of all things, but Rogue had asked me anyway. And I’d leapt at the chance to let off some steam, strike some fear into the hearts of the fuckers that thought they could play with me. 

Was prolly safe to say that there wasn’t gonna be anymore playing.

Plus, it had only motivated me more when Rogue said the little words, "V told me not to, but…" 

What was it to V? Why would she care what shit I got up to while she was gone? I mean, I wasn't exactly sleeping around like anyone would've prolly assumed I would be, and that was about as much as she should've cared. So why'd she go around telling Rogue what I was and wasn't allowed to do? Even when I did jobs, it was never alone - Rogue always sent Torres or Weyland with me, sometimes both. Always watching me like a hawk. Worst part was, I got hurt and Rogue would dock my pay. It was like a dumb game to her, with a minus points on the scoreboard for every tiny scratch and bruise. 

"So," Rogue said suddenly, and I hefted my head up off the back of the couch to give her my attention. She was idly staring at her screen, the bright display reflecting in her eyes, but she wasn't taking any of it in. "How was your show?" 

I rolled my eyes. "You don't give a shit about my show." 

"No collapsed bassists this time? No one got drugged at the bar?" 

"Fuck off, Princess. Not every gig ends in a shit fest." 

"Surprising, honestly." her lips twitched, and with a little sigh, she got up and rounded to her liquor cabinet. She set a bottle down on the coffee table in front of me, and two glasses. "Seriously," she said, settling on the couch across from me and popped the top of the bottle, poured, "How'd it go?"

I shrugged. "Alright." 

"You usually take the opportunity to gloat and run with it." 

Wanted to shrug  _ again.  _ "I don't know, it was fine. Good. No one died far as I know, and once Kerry stopped being salty that I was late, the band had fun." 

"You pointedly chose not to include yourself in that." Rogue noticed, and I didn't say anything. I just accepted the glass she offered and swirled the tequila around in it before taking a sip. 

"Doesn't feel the same." I said simply. "Shouldn't have been surprised - a lot of shit's changed." 

"The world moved on without you, Johnny. But your band are trying to readjust to you, aren't they?" 

"What if they're not the problem? What if it's  _ me?"  _

Rogue smiled slyly, and I knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth. "You always  _ were  _ the problem, Johnny. Nice to see you're finally able to see it, though." 

I sighed, and rubbed at my brow. Should've known it was pointless to try to have a proper conversation with her - usually had these stupid, deep talks with V. Least V wouldn't poke fun anymore, and she'd actually hear me out. Rogue was just looking to jump down my throat any chance she got. 

"What's on your mind, Johnny?" she asked, as if she seemed to realise exactly what I was already thinking. Must've been the way I was acting, must've been the way I was responding to her jokes. Wasn't in the mood, and that meant I was serious about this shit for once. 

"Starting to think I've got my priorities wrong." I admitted, and stared so hard at my drink I could've been glaring. I took a deeper swig than I intended, and emptied my glass. 

"How so?" 

Her voice was softer now, taking on that sort of patient tone she so rarely whipped out. Was weird as hell to be on the receiving end of her patience. 

"Don't feel that same drive about the band anymore," I started, running a hand through my hair. "Don't feel a drive about anything. Feel like I'm runnin' on empty - fuck, at this point I'd prefer to be angry again rather than nothing at all." 

"This have anything to do with V?" 

Shrugged again. "Prolly."

Rogue hummed, and left me to stew over my thoughts while she took a sip from her own drink. Then, letting out a soft sigh of her own, she said, "So what  _ do  _ you want, Johnny?" 

"Don't know." 

"Don't know, or don't want to  _ admit  _ it?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

She disinterestedly rose a brow, rubbed a finger idly around the rim of her glass. "You're stubborn, and you're also the biggest asshole I know. You wouldn't know soft and gentle if it hit you in the face, so if a happy ending was what you wanted, you'd never say so."

"Don't even know what a happy ending looks like." 

"Really?" she tilted her head at me, and I just stared blankly at her. "Alright, picture this: you and V, little home in some nice place with a big garden for your dog or whatever, maybe a kid or two. You're not beating in skulls every other day, and there's no Arasaka trying to hunt you down. How's that sound?" 

Wasn't sure about the kids part of that because I'd be a terrible fucking father to  _ anyone.  _ But it didn't sound like an  _ awful _ idea; not the worst one I'd ever heard. No 'Saka, no war. Just V, and I could be cool with that.

"Should I be worried by the fact that I don't mind that?" I grumbled, and half contemplated reaching for the bottle again. Rogue huffed a snort. 

"I thought I wanted that exact thing once. Did you know I have a son?" 

I blinked at her, and raised a brow. "Aurelio's?" 

She snorted, shook her head. "No. No, this was someone else - thought I wanted to be with him forever, thought he was  _ my _ happy ending. Didn't work out, obviously, he had no interest in being a father or giving up his lifestyle. My point is, Johnny, that even people like us can want normal things. If you want that, that's fine - bit unexpected considering it's  _ you,  _ but you're allowed to."

I was still reeling a little bit over the fact that there was a Rogue junior out there somewhere. How old was he? It couldn't have been recently considering her thing with Aurelio, but there was a whole goddamn stretch of sixty years since I'd last seen her. I had a hard time picturing her with a little toddler with chubby cheeks on her hip, but also couldn't imagine a kid like Steve or even older. But I guess that was her point - it was difficult for me to picture a woman like her as a mother, and not just because she was my ex. It was tough just because of who she was, what she did, the person I knew her as. But that didn't mean she didn't have it in her to be a mom, just like she refused to think I could he goddamn "soft" or "gentle." 

Still, it put me in a weird spot. Because one, I couldn't exactly decide this shit on my own - needed the other half to make any plans. Two, she was off in fucking space with no actual guarantee she was gonna make it back. Three, I'd already agreed to committing myself to Samurai 2.0 and running it alongside Kerry just like we used to, no Manager, no label, no mass market-produced bullshit music. It was messy and time-consuming, and already I hadn't been devoting half the time I should've to it. 

I sighed, and set down the empty glass I was, for some reason, still clinging to. My ax was still beside me on the couch, and I set a hand on the case with a weird weight in my stomach. Felt like choosing that would leave everything else behind, and I'd already done that once before; said fuck it to everything in my life and took a plunge that got me killed. 

"Too early for this shit." I decided, and got to my feet. Rogue barked a little laugh, and rolled her eyes. 

"Just think on it, Johnny. You'll have plenty of time to consider what I said before you can make good on it." 

Plenty of time my ass. The time until V returned would either fly because of fucking groundhog day, or grind to a slow and painful wait. And I could guarantee I would not spend every second of it thinking about her because that would just fuck up my head. 

"Hope y'know, Rogue," I said as I collected my ax and straightened my jacket. She looked up at me with a curious raised brow, and hadn't moved from her comfortable spot on the couch. "If V doesn't come back down, it's your fault." 

Rogue let out a faint hum, closing her eyes as she took another sip of her drink. 

"And what will you do, Johnny?" she asked. 

"I'll kill you. And that fucker who hired you for the job." 

She didn't doubt I was serious. She just nodded, and said, "It was Mr. Blue Eyes that hired us. I'll forward info if you'd like, keep it handy just in case it does actually come to pass that V doesn't come back." 

"Why? Offerin' me shit in hopes I'll spare you?" 

"No." she said calmly, "But because I want him to go down with me if I have to." 

"Fair enough." 

"Goodnight, Johnny." 

"Yeah. Night." 

Don't know why leaving that convo with a threat made me feel squirmy. It shouldn't have, because I meant it and she knew it - didn't need to feel guilty about it either because she'd do the same if the situation was reserved. Still, even I could admit it was a weird note to end on after the talk she'd given me. She'd definitely given me a lot to think about; but that would imply it hadn't already been on my mind. I'd at least considered it once or twice in passing. Definitely thought about it a lot that night I actually asked V to marry me, but hadn't actually considered that maybe one day it'd be a reality. Didn't know if that was what V wanted, or really if it was even what  _ I  _ wanted. But Rogue had actually helped, and made me realise that yeah, my priorities were a little wack right now.

I lingered outside for a while, having a smoke, and waited for a Delamain. Should've taken my own car to the gig, but Torres had been my ride right after a job. I knew V was pretty friendly with the guy - AI, I guess - so I figured why not. Was definitely pricier than just driving myself, but I didn't have much of a choice unless I wanted to either jack a car or walk all the way back to North Oak. 

Still, it was pretty prompt. Cab turned up in the parking lot and opened its door for me; I tossed my ax in the trunk and got in, sinking into the cream leather back seat with a sigh. 

"Welcome on board this Delamain service. With Delamain, you leave your problems at the door.”

“You’re definitely more optimistic than me, pal.” I said offhandedly. The face of the pale AI on the screen in front of me didn’t so much as twitch. 

The ride back to Kerry’s was silent. Strange for an AI that would talk at V for what felt like hours, but he couldn’t be blamed for not knowing I’d unfortunately been present for all of those conversations. Plus, I wasn’t exactly looking for  _ more _ conversation after the amount I’d already had tonight. Wasn’t interested in getting therapy from an AI next, and was fully expecting even more talk when I got back, probably in the form of Kerry ranting my ear off.

Figured I’d be made to grovel at the intercom if I called it, so I bit the bullet and hefted myself up and over the wall. At least his security bots wouldn’t shoot me, even if I had to clamber over the wall like fucking ninja warrior. I strolled up the path, spying Kerry’s car parked sorta wonky in front of my Porsche and Shit-heap. Ah, Shit-heap - as hideous as ever. 

The house was silent inside, lights off downstairs. But the second I opened the door, I heard a little jingle, and then a whole goddamn choir of it as Daisy raced towards me so quickly I think she might’ve hurt herself on my hand when I caught her up in my arms. If my face was mucky before, now it was clean - and smelled of dog breath. 

“Easy, babygirl, calm down,” I soothed, and managed to set her back down on her feet. Wish I had half the energy this little dog had; wasn’t fair for her to be alone all day. Maybe I really would make good on that threat to V and make her come back home to a second dog.

Unfortunately though, the little jingle of her collar was enough to ruin any stealthy attempt at making it upstairs. I was halfway up them with her beside me when I noticed Kerry leaning over the glass rail with a tired raised brow, like he wasn’t expecting me to come back at all.

“Just gonna spit it out,” I said quickly, offering a hand up innocently, “I fucked up tonight. Sorry for bein’ late. That’s the only suckin’ up you’re gettin’ out of me.”

Kerry shrugged. “Better than what I used to get.” 

Honestly, I was expecting more of a lecture - a rant, about how little I seemed to give a fuck. I wasn’t  _ disappointed  _ that I didn’t get one, but I was definitely taken aback by the simple silence I got as he turned his back and dragged his slippered feet back to bed. 

“Night, Ker.” I called, but I wasn’t even sure if I’d get a response. But there it was - the flash of his middle finger over his shoulder, and all of a sudden I felt a bit better about it.

Ever since I’d started sleeping in this bed alone, I decided I hated it; so Daisy kept me company. The second I opened the door to the bedroom she raced through, bouncing off the stool at the foot of the bed and making herself comfortable on V’s pillow. Pointedly, I walked right past the couch where V’s stuff was left, setting my ax down against the window and dumping my jacket off the handle of the closet. V would laugh at my attempt at organising my clothes into some sort of logical order, but hey, at least I knew where my shit was. 

After sorting out my usual night time routine - minus getting hip-bumped out of the way of the sink when I was brushing my teeth - I threw myself into bed and finally let out the groan I’d somehow held in all night. Daisy cocked her head at me, and I smoothed a thumb over the little spot of fur between her ears. I wonder if she’d felt V’s absence, or if she even noticed. After all, V was the one who made the decision to adopt her, I just happened to be forced into being her owner. 

But she was a good little dog. Clever and friendly, and she - even though I told her not to - wormed her way into my space and made herself comfortable right in my face. She was good company, had her own special little ways of keeping bad thoughts at bay. Most of all, she couldn’t talk at me.

Bizarre fucking circumstances indeed. I think if someone told Johnny Silverhand in 2023 that fast forward into the future, he’d be cuddling his Beagle wishing it was his wife, he would’ve laughed. Or maybe it would’ve been a thought that haunted him so much he would’ve taken steps to avoid it entirely - gave him motivation  _ not _ to get his stupid ass killed. Any younger version of myself would’ve been fucking terrified of the idea that any woman was walking around with my ring on her finger. A part of me still was. 

But hey, things had changed. I’d changed too even if I didn’t want it. Even if the prospect was weird as fuck for someone like me, I was somehow content with it. I found myself dozing off that night just glad it was another day over - scratched out another date in my mental calendar until a certain someone’s deadline was up.

Fucking V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm [bubble-bones](https://bubble-bones.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! I'm also very active on the [Cyberpunks discord server](https://discord.gg/vn3twwhaHP)!

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know your thoughts on the first chapter! Are you excited for more V/Johnny shenanigans? This time with a bit more Alt sprinkled in to make this confusing and awkward? Because I sure as hell am! 
> 
> Also yes, Mass Effect players, the Silversun Strip and the Silver Coast casino are absolutely references to the ME3 Citadel DLC. If you noticed, excellent job! If you didn't, that's okay. And if you did but couldn't remember where the hell you'd heard it before, I hope I've cured that annoying tip-of-the-tongue bs that memory tends to do.
> 
> Love you guys, thanks for your support! More to come hopefully soon! <3
> 
> As always, I'm [bubble-bones](https://bubble-bones.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! I'm also very active on the [Cyberpunks discord server](https://discord.gg/vn3twwhaHP)!


End file.
